


On the Road to Gretna Green

by geniewithwifi



Series: All At Once [15]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Eloping, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 04:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geniewithwifi/pseuds/geniewithwifi
Summary: Five years ago, Oliver Queen disappeared from Felicity Smoak's life without a word. Now he has returned when she's off to marry someone else. Regency AU





	On the Road to Gretna Green

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted for Olicity Secret Santa 2018

_ December 1814 _

 

Felicity climbed out of bed, fumbling for the flint box next to her bed. The clock on her nightstand read 4 am. She had about an hour to make it to Southampton before the stage left. Careful to not wake the rest of the household, she pulled her valise from where she had stored it under her bed. Felicity had packed it over the whole of yesterday. 

Without a maid to help her dress, Felicity grabbed a work dress that buttoned up the front. Borrowing it from her abigail pricked her conscious, but she reasoned that she would return it promptly. 

Dressed, she blew out the candle, took one last look at her room in the sudden darkness and tiptoed down the hall. She avoided the creaking stair of the servant’s staircase, a route she’d traipsed many times before throughout her childhood. 

Exiting the manor was a bit more tricky. When closing the door, the hinges unexpectedly shrieked, breaking the silence of the night. Felicity tensed, waiting for some movement, some sign that she’d been discovered. One second passed, then two. Nothing. 

She drew her cloak around her shoulders, facing off the biting wind. She lamented not being able to sit in a warm carriage, but alas it wasn’t to be. On foot she would need to walk. 

Quickly she made her way to the back fence, climbing over it. Once in the field she walked along, dodging sheep and cows that dotted the pasture. She glanced back at her home one last time, knowing that with what she was about to do, Felicity might never be welcomed back. But she had to do it. She refused to be a burden on her family, and this was the only way to prevent that. 

Arriving in Southampton, the Rose and Thorn was the inn right next to the post stop. Pulling her bonnet down to cover more of her face, she waited. The town was wakening. The smells of the bakery across the street set her mouth to watering, reminding her stomach she hadn’t eaten before she left. However, Felicity couldn’t risk being remembered or recognized. The sooner she was on her way, the better. 

Finally, the mailcoach pulled up. She approached the driver. 

“No ‘usband?” He eyed her suspiciously.

She shook her head. 

“No one to accompany you? ”

Felicity adopted what she thought was a lower-class accent. “None. You wantin’ my fare or not?”

“I do, calm thyself. It just isn’t proper, a female without escort. We’re returnin’ ta London, Missy. ‘alf a Crown.”

“And if’en I wanted to go to further north?”

The driver gave her a curious glance, then shrugged. 

“Find another mail coach in London. All roads lead there.”

Felicity breathed a sigh in relief; he wasn’t going to question her. Pressing a half-crown in the man’s hand, she opened the door. Realizing she’d have to climb in without assistance she hesitated. She didn’t know how to do it by herself.

“Well go on, get in. We don’t have all day.”

No one else was in the mail coach, so she braced her hands, gave a little hope, and fell into the carriage. Dragging her feet in, she reached out and closed the carriage door. Exhaling loudly, she collapsed in relief. No one had stopped her and she was on her way to London. 

And from there to Gretna Green. 

 

\------

 

It was evening by the time the mail coach arrived in London. Felicity had been the only passenger until the last turnpike. A couple had joined her, a merchant and his wife by the looks of it. Felicity paid them no mind. The wife kept trying to engage her in conversation, but Felicity did the rudest thing in her life- she ignored her. Questions would mean she’d be remembered. And why she was unaccompanied would be on everyone’s mind. But there was no help for it. She’d have to do this by herself. Alighting at the General Post 

She had drifted off to sleep and was roused by loud voices. The carriage abruptly drew to a halt. A knock came to the door, opened then by the driver. 

“We’re going uphill. Ta save the horses we need ya to walk behind. “

Felicity grimaced, but grabbed her cloak tightly around her neck. She hopped out, stumbling at the impact, since the driver hadn’t seen to helping her down. The post-guard eyed her but shrugged. 

“Walk on!” The driver called, him alone remaining on the carriage. 

Why the weight of one small woman mattered to the horses going up this hill, Felicity didn’t know. She could’ve stayed aboard and not trudged in the mud or the stinging wind. 

A few minutes later she was able to climb back aboard just as they arrived at the next town. A stop that wouldn’t take more than one or two minutes. It was likely no one would join her. 

She proved to be wrong. 

A man stepped in, halted at seeing her, and gave her a leer as he assessed her. He took the rear-facing seat across from her. Felicity avoided his gaze, keeping her head down, as the driver urged the horses onward. 

“What’s yer name?” 

Felicity ignored him, hoping that eventually he’d lose interest in her. 

“I asked ye a question, gel. Do ye have a name or not?” 

She gave him her middle name. “Megan. “

“See, Missy that wasn’t so ‘ard. Yer a pretty lass ye are. Where yer headed?” He leaned down, trying to see under her bonnet. She fixed it tighter to her head.

“London.”  She replied, hoping that was the end of it. Turns out it wasn’t. 

The next several hours were the most uncomfortable of her life, or what Felicity thought might be so far. He’d set to grinning predatorily, and smirking at her. Calling her ‘pet’ or ‘darlin’’. He’d eventually started reaching forward and running a single fingertip down the outside of her skirt, right where her knee was. The few times she’d slapped his hand off of her hadn’t deterred him. She mentally reminded herself that she was doing this so that she would never be put in the position again, where she would be protected and not a burden to her family. 

He does this for the next several hours, but tones it down when another couple climbs on. Felicity is anxious for this whole time, keeping her head down, trying to not draw attention to herself, and just reassuring herself of why she’s doing this. 

They reach London. 

Felicity climbs out to transfer carriages cause she needs the one to York. The man who’s been harassing her snags her arm and drags her off to the side. 

“Ye can’t tease all those ‘ours and not give a man what ‘e's promised.” 

Felicity shrieks, pounding a fist against his arm but he’s too powerful. She’s half tripping and sliding against the snow. 

“Please sir, no. Please! Please oh god, just let me go!” He pushes her up against the wall, and starts sucking on her neck. A hand goes down and grabs the front of her skirt. Felicity is terrified of what will come next. 

“Please oh god, just get me out of here.” This is why women never go anywhere without escort, she realizes. Not because they’re not capable humans but for protection. Felicity would do anything for someone to save her!

“Hold!” A deep voice called out. 

The man ignores the newcomer, just becoming more frantic with his belt buckle. Felicity turns to what she hopes is her salvation. 

He’s a soldier, it’s the first thing she notices, the blue of his uniform announcing his occupation, with gold epaulets, a tricorn hat atop his head, hiding his hair. What catches her eye is the blue of his. 

“I said stop!” The soldier grips the man holding herr and rips him away, the nails stinging cuts across her arm. 

“None of your business sir!” The man spits, pushing the soldier off. Before he can grab her again, Felicity darts behind her rescuer. 

“Any lady in need is my business. It looks like she wants nothing to do with you sir. Good day.” 

The soldier tips his hat before turning towards Felicity. She watches the man squeeze his fist and lunge toward the soldier’s unprotected back. 

“Look out!” 

In an instant, the soldier whirls, blocks the blow with his left forearm and strikes with his right. The man goes down, groaning and clutching a nose that is quickly turning red. 

“My thanks.” The soldier bows to her smartly, sweeping his hat from his head. “Now, if I may accompany you to your destination…” He looks up and trails off. Meeting his eyes square on and without the hat triggers recognition. It’s been five years, and the time passed has aged him but he’s still the same. The only man she’s truly been in love with. 

Oliver Queen. 

 

\-----

 

She’d met him in Bath, when she was visiting her cousin. It was her first Season, but her family hadn’t enough money to stay in London. Her and Laurel had taken the town by storm, with her dancing almost every set at every ball she attended. Felicity kept expecting to be swept off her feet during the largest gather that Bath had ever seen. Turns out it was the next night. A small little musicale where nobody who was anybody should’ve been. But Laurel was friends with the hostess and as a good show, they came. 

That’s when she first met him. He’d been standing by the stairs as she’d walked in and they’d met eye to eye. Something stirred in her stomach and she couldn’t look away. Neither could he. It wasn’t until Laurel asked her something that broke Felicity’s concentration and she looked away. When she looked back he’d gone. 

A mere mister at the time, he was the second son of the earl of Starling. He was accompanying his older brother Albert to the waters at Bath.  He’d reappeared with their hostess and after being introduced, had sat next to her. Every attempt of conversation with him had ended no where. Besides the occasional grunt of acknowledgement he was utterly silent. 

Felicity had been confused the entire evening. A handsome man had asked to be introduced to her, was seated beside her, and hadn’t engaged her at all. Hadn’t he felt the same butterflies she had? 

She’d written it off, and promptly forgot about him. Until the next ball, when he’d asked her to dance. Felicity, surprised had said yes. Oliver Queen was a passable dancer, but still he was utterly silent. 

It wasn’t until the fourth time in his company that he spoke more than three sentences. She’d become content in his company, and she’d realized he was a great listener. That he would look at her, really look at her, and empathize with what she was saying. 

They’d been sitting out the set, and he’d gotten her a drink. She’d been complaining over a bit of nonsense and Oliver had surprised her with a witty rejoinder and fair advice. Four sentences long. 

After that, he’d begun to court her. He took her riding with him, they went for a stroll. He’d send her flowers every third day. The man was slow to trust, and by the second to last ball of the Season, she was head over heels in love with him. 

He told her all about his life, his dreams, his passions. About caring for his older brother who was sick. He shared his doubts and worries about his family. Oliver confided in her all of his secrets, those he’d never told another soul.  All except one. 

That night, the night of the ball at Havershams, he told her he loved her, that he wanted to marry her. He promised that he would go and talk to her cousin for approval, and even write her father in Southampton. 

They’d shared a soul-stirring kiss that night, one that had her heart pounding and head spinning, and short of breath.

The next morning he’d sent her a bouquet of roses, with a card once again expressing his love. 

She never saw him again. 

Felicity waited a week. Oliver never sent his card, nor met with Laurel’s husband. No letter arrived from her father giving his permission for her to be wed. One week passed then another. Three weeks came and went with no word from him. 

Since there was no official understanding between the two of them, even with all the promises made, she couldn’t write him. Which was a rule of society that Felicity hated. 

She begun asking questions of other of his whereabouts. The night before she was to return home, her and Laurel attending a dinner party. There she learned the answer she’d been seeking and was shocked by the news: Albert Queen had returned home to Yorkshire, and Oliver Queen had joined the Navy. 

Mrs. TIlburn had the juiciest gossip though. Turns out Oliver Queen had been given an ultimate by his father. Marry a rich heiress or join the Navy. Apparently he’d pick the latter. 

\---

“Felicity.” His breath stuttered. Felicity drew herself up, determined not to be hurt by him again. 

“My name is Miss Smoak. You do not have leave to call me by my Christian name, sir.” She turned around and left that horrid alley, where two nightmares of hers had come to life. Locating the coach bound for her destination, she stepped in with the help of the driver. At least this man had manners. 

Placing herself as far away from the open door as possible, she gathered the traveling blanket more firmly around her legs. She was going to Gretna Green and nothing would change her mind. Definitely not Oliver Queen. 

Another passenger climbed aboard, taking the rear-facing seat closest to the door. 

The driver folded up the stairs and slammed the door. A crack and a snap and the horses pulled forward. Why her betrothed had decided to get married in winter she didn’t know.  Summer was a much better time for impulsive elopements. She had four days of travel ahead of her if she was lucky. Exhausted, she rested against the window and let the rocking of the carriage lull her to sleep.

The halt of the carriage woke her, and she bolted upright, adrenaline high, the dream of her nightmare still lingering. A loud voice bading all passengers exit had her moving the warm blanket off her. Another hill. Just wonderful. 

The other passenger had climbed out already. She went to disembark as well and a hand appear. Grateful she took it, retaining her balance until on terra firma. She looked up at her assistant and was dismayed to recognize his face. 

“What are you doing here?” She hissed, crossing her arms. The carriage moved on behind her, and Oliver took her arm and pulled her out of the way. 

“Riding the mail post. And no,” he cut her off as she opened her mouth, “I’m not following you. I’m headed home to Yorkshire, if you’ve forgotten. That’s where my family seat is. “

“I hadn’t forgotten, thank-you.” 

“Good. Now come on, or they’ll leave us behind.” 

Slowly they trudged up hill.

“Not that it’s any of my business but what are you doing traveling north, especially unaccompanied?”

“You’re right, it’s not any of your concern, sir.” She huffed as her boot slipped in the mud, upsetting her balance. Oliver reached over and caught her by the waist, steadying her. As he drew away his hand left fiery trails across her skin through her dress. 

“Felicity--”

“Miss Smoak,” she corrected.

“Winter is a terribly dangerous time to travel, especially by mail coach. What could be so important that you leave home, without your father or,” he hesitated, “or husband?” The last part was barely audible. 

“My reasons are my own, Lieutenant Queen. As are yours.” 

“My reasons? For going home? Felicity. Please, I don’t understand.”

They reached the waiting carriage. The driver stood by the door. Oliver hurried around her to the otherside to offer his own hand. She pointedly ignored him and took the drivers hand. She settled in her previous spot. This time, Oliver sat across from her. 

“Leave me be.” She insisted. “I do not need your help, nor do I want it.”

“You seemed to very well need it back in London.”

“And I thank-you for that, sir.”

“Let me at least escort you to your destination. My honor as a gentleman won’t have a lady traveling on her own and not do something to help her.”

“It would insult your honor if I refused?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. I  _ do not need your help. _ ”

“Felicity.” The sound of her name in that tone, half exasperated, half something else that was familiar as the beat of her heart. The rhythm brought tears to her eyes.

“Don’t. I beg you, don’t say my name like that. Not after everything.” 

He turned to look out the window briefly, his hands kneading his hat brim. After a moment, he met her gaze. 

“As you wish, Miss Smoak.” 

The sound of her formal name in his familiar tones had an empty feeling settling in her navel. As much as her name on his lips had brought pain, the hollowness of formality was worse. 

“Will you not tell me why you’re on this coach in the first place?”

“If you must know, I’m to be wed.” 

A myriad of emotions appeared on his face, including astonishment and bewildering enough,  _ smugness.  _ He crossed arms, with an air of having the upper hand. How the information that she was getting married had him preening she didn’t know. 

“My congratulations. Who’s the lucky chap?”

The coach slowed, then stopped as she was about to reply. The door opened and a elderly woman climbed in. 

She halted at their seating arrangements. “Sir,” she addressed Oliver, “if you would be so kind and sit next to your wife there, then I might sit next to my Hector. Oh do be a dear!” 

Felicity froze at the word  _ wife. _ Oliver’s eyes had gone wide as well, but he just nodded and removed from his seat, settling next to Felicity. She could feel the heat of his thigh against hers, due to the smallness of the carriage.

While the woman’s husband was seating himself, she swear she heard Oliver say “I guess I’m the lucky man.” 

Felicity knew that if it became public knowledge that she’d been riding in the mail coach unaccompanied, especially with a man not related to her, she would be ruined. The octogenarian had given them a perfect lie to protect her reputation. Then again, Felicity had probably already obliterated it with running off to Gretna Green. 

“Oh, I’m so happy to be riding with another couple! That way we have good stories to tell and fine conversation to enjoy! I’m Mrs. Brown and this lump here is Mr. Brown. My you two are a handsome couple. Pray tell me, where did you meet?” 

Felicity felt the panic start to rise in her. Here she just wanted to ignore the man at her side and instead she had to pretend to be  _ married  _ to him. A knife in the gut that was. Since five years ago she’d dreamed of this very thing and he’d run as far from her as he could. 

“In Bath.” Oliver responded for them. A hand grabbed hers, and she turned to look at it. The warmth radiating from his hand was soothing, a callback to happier times. As much pain as being with Oliver caused, he’d always been able to put her at ease in his company. He’d been her best friend and confidant before he ever was a suitor. 

“How wonderful. Mr. Brown and I met in London of course, but we’ve been to Bath several times to visit one of our daughters. We have six, the darling things. And a son. He lives in Northumberland and has invited us for Christmas. The roads are so hazardous in the winter but we just had to see him. He’s had a beautiful little boy and we’ve yet to see him!” Mrs Brown finally paused for breath and sighed dreamily at the thought of her grandson. Mr. Brown just humped and flipped open his newspaper. 

Mrs. Brown reached into her reticle and pulled out a knitting project, about a quarter of the way done. “Little children are such joys are they not? When are you two planning to add to your nursery?” 

Felicity tensed at the improperness of such a question. Such things were private and not for public comment.  Oliver’s thumb started rubbing circles into her hand. 

“When we’re blessed.” 

“Oh good. It’s such a shame when young couples don’t produce children. A waste of--” Mr. Brown nudged his wife and she clicked her mouth shut. “Well anyways, I wish you both the very best of having offspring.

“Now, sir, you were in the Navy?”

“Yes ma’am. Served five years in His Majesty’s Navy, aboard the HMS  _ Valiant,  _ under Admiral Smith.

“Oh, one of my brother’s boys was on the HMS  _ Elizabeth.  _ You were stationed in America?”

“Yes, in the northern Caribbean. We were tasked with forming a blockade to prevent gunrunning.”

Felicity ducked her head to hide her surprise. She hadn’t known that Oliver had been in America. She thought he’d been down the coast of Portugal and Spain. 

“You’ve seen several battles then. My nephew died on the  _ Elizabeth. _ ”

Oliver’s hand tightened on hers. “Yes. The loss of the  _ Elizabeth _ was a tragedy. I signaled their captain to retreat but Captain Ross didn’t listen to me. He thought he could take the Americans. Instead he cost hundreds of good men their lives.” His voice had taken on a bitterness to it, as the entire catastrophe had been his fault. 

“But we won that battle.” Felicity commented. 

Oliver glanced at her, pain radiating from his gaze.  “I don’t consider losing 545 good men in a desperate attempt for fame and fortune a victory.” He said  _ sotto voce _ . 

“Hmm, wasn’t it Captain Queen who sank the American fleet? Yes that’s right. The  _ Elizabeth  _ and the  _ Catherine  _ had both sustained heavy losses but the  _ Valiant  _ came around sunk all three ships. The man’s a hero, even if he couldn’t save my nephew.” 

Felicity leaned into Oliver, reaching her up to his ear.

“Captain? I didn’t know that.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know, Felicity.” 

A sigh across from the caught her attention. 

“Ah, young love. So fresh. Did you marry before he went to sea, or just now?” 

“Before.”

“Last week.”

They both spoke at the same time. Mrs. Brown cocked her head. 

Felicity couldn’t let Oliver carry the charade by himself. They were stuck in these roles for the time being, might as well make the best of it. 

“We were married the morning before he departed. However, he returned last week after five years at sea, so the feelings are just a new. We’re spending Christmas with his family at Yorkshire.”

“How wonderful.”

For the next hour Mrs Brown chattered on, not seeming to need an audience. The occasional comment or acknowledgement kept her happy.  She resumed looking out the window, watching the trees go by, and the horses at well tended pastures. The north country was much different than her home, a little harsher. 

Oliver was a captain. He’d left her, all future of them being together for a career at sea. He’d risen quite well, something she was not at all surprised at. She’d just wished that the future they were faking was real. The fact she’d described to Mrs. Brown was what Felicity had hoped had happened. 

“You know,” she whispered quietly to Oliver. “I would’ve waited.” 

“This other chap you’re marrying tells me otherwise.” 

Stung, Felicity drew back, and turned to the window. She removed her hand from his, and gave him her back. 

“Oh, no. You’ve done something wrong. The perils of being a husband.” Mr.Brown commented. If Oliver gave a reply she didn’t hear it. 

It wasn’t too long until they came to the next posting inn. This one required a change of horses, allowing passengers a few minutes to walk around and get sustenance. Oliver helped her down from the carriage and offered his arm. 

“I’m sorry, Felicity.”

“To what are you referring to sir?” She asked quite coldly. It was only for appearances that she was even accompanying him. “The fact that we are pretending to be man and wife? That she pried so very deep into our affairs? That you judge me for moving on when you left me--” Her throat closed up and she couldn’t finish the sentence. 

“All of it. The fault of the mess lies with me.” 

“Yes. You left. You ran off to play soldier and left me, since I wasn’t an  _ heiress. _ ” She spat the word. 

“I did-do not care that you haven’t any money. Your father is disinherited because he married your mother and survives off the charity of your uncle. But one of us has to have an income.  I would’ve been disinherited if I had disobeyed my father! I had to think of the future. What life would we have had? I couldn’t offer for you because we would have lost everything! Don’t you see?”

“No. You broke my heart Oliver. I promised to marry you and then you vanished. I didn’t see you for five years.  _ Five years! _ When I found out that you had joined the  _ Navy  _ instead of marrying me, I was devastated. Do you know how that made me feel? Knowing that my beau would rather go be killed in a war than marry me?”

“Felicity--”

“And everyone knew, Oliver. Somehow it got out that I had been jilted. I was popular in Bath and then when people found out, they gave me the cut direct. As though I had the plague or some disease. You were off on a ship--”

“Fighting for my life! And our future. I was doing this all for you. Don’t you see? My father told me that if I didn’t serve in the Navy he would disinherit me. Cut me off. My family has a long line of men who’ve served king and country faithfully. It was a matter of family honor. He gave me one season in Bath. If I could not snatch a lady of breeding and money, then he would purchase a commission for me. I’m a second son, Felicity, you know that. I’m not the heir. I had an inheritance from the estate, that can be removed at the whims of my father. 

“When I fell in love with you, I knew that we couldn’t live on nothing. I made the choice to join the Navy, and wrote to my father. My commission arrived the morning after I proposed. My plan was exactly what we’re pretending-- for you to be my wife in truth. 

“You didn’t inform me of any of this. You left without a word! You promised to write to my father!”

“I wrote to him and explained everything, Felicity. He didn’t give his permission. He wasn’t too pleased at the thought of his daughter marrying a soldier.” 

“He-he didn’t give his permission?” 

“No. And I couldn’t face you again knowing that we couldn’t be together. So I left and signed up for a ship in Bristol. Albert went home without me.”

Felicity stood there, stunned. She’d thought her father would’ve been happy for her, excited that his little girl had found love, just like he did. Instead, he’d refused his permission, and doomed her to spinsterhood or desperation. 

Oliver’s face twisted in self-deprecation. “It’s a good thing we didn’t marry since you’re running off to marry some chap. How long would you have waited before being unfaithful to me. A week? Or would you have the decency to wait at least a month?”

Felicity’s hand flashed out and hit Oliver’s cheek.

“How  _ dare _ you.” She shook her head, stepping back. Oliver pressed his hand to his face, covering up the red mark she’d left. “It’s been five years Oliver, and I am not truly your wife. You cannot question my decision when I had no hope of ever seeing you again. I thought you dead. A life of a soldier isn’t a guarantee. I love you more than a human being should love another person, and would’ve married you without my father’s permission, as you can very well see. Ray is nothing compared to you. I would’ve waited forever.” 

Her anger dying, she reached up to his face, covering his hand with hers. He flinched, expecting another blow, but allowed her touch. Felicity caressed his cheek. 

“Oliver Queen, I have only loved but you. Please understand that. But until you can make me a better offer for my future, I must continue on to Gretna Green.” 

“You’re eloping?”

“I had no other choice.” Her hand dropped with her gaze and she turned around. His hand caught her wrist and spun her around. 

“I’ll give you another option.” He growled just before his lips met hers. 

The kiss was passionate and desperate, hard and unyielding. His hand sank into her hair, pulling her to him. Her hands found his lapels and held on. Her heart pounded, her legs shook, but Oliver was steady, her rock, her foundation, her always. With him, she would always have hope. 

He slowed the kiss, turning it sweet and devastating. She found herself pressed up against the side of the inn, wood at her back and hard muscle pressing against her chest. A hand of hers ran up the side of his neck to his hair, gliding through his silky hair. The longer strands caressed her fingers, as she gripped them and pulled him to her even harder. She would not let him go. He was here, for the first time in years, kissing her, and she’d be damned if she let him walk away again. He’d hurt her, but only with him did she feel whole. 

Oliver drew back panting, his hot breath coating her face. 

“Gretna Green it is. Felicity, my love, I will accompany you to Scotland. So that you can go wed this beau of yours.” 

Hot shame flooded her. He’d kissed her so passionately and now was rejecting her? Going to give her away at her wedding? 

He must have read the turmoil on her face because he shook his head. 

“Will you marry me over the anvil. Not this Ray?” 

She nodded. He grinned and leaned in to kiss her again. Felicity stopped his lips with her hand. “But you’re still a soldier. Won’t you have to leave?” 

He gave a half-laugh, full of joy and part of agony. “Albert died. That’s why I’m going home. I’m the heir now and my father cannot cut me off. I have sold my commission, bid farewell to that part of my life, and turn my eyes to brighter horizons. That includes you if you want it to. You are my always, Felicity. My constant and my guiding star. Please say you’ll be mine.”

“Well, according to Mrs. Brown, I already am.” 

“Perfect.” He kissed her again. 

“A christmas wedding in Scotland. That sounds wonderful.” Felicity grinned as he took her by the hand and dragged her back to the carriage. It was still several days away from Scotland, but with Oliver by her side, it would be worth it. 


End file.
